Volume Ii Part 27 (2/2)
Ev'n Sarum, when he quaffs it'stead of tea, Fancies himself in Canterbury's see, And S****, when he carousing reels, Imagines that he has regain'd the seals: W****, by virtue of his juice, can fight, And Stanhope of commissioners make light.
Wine gives Lord Wingham apt.i.tude of parts, And swells him with his family's deserts: Whom can it not make eloquent of speech; Whom in extremest poverty not rich?
Since, by the means of the prevailing grape, Th***n can Lechmere's warmth not only ape, But, half seas o'er, by its inspiring bounties, Can qualify himself in several counties.
What I have promised, thou may'st rest a.s.sured Shall faithfully and gladly be procured.
Nay, I'm already better than my word, New plates and knives adorn the jovial board: And, lest you at their sight shouldst make wry faces The girl has scour'd the pots, and wash'd the gla.s.ses Ta'en care so excellently well to clean 'em, That thou may'st see thine own dear picture in 'em.
Moreover, due provision has been made, That conversation may not be betray'd; I have no company but what is proper To sit with the most flagrant Whig at supper.
There's not a man among them but must please, Since they're as like each other as are pease.
Toland and Hare have jointly sent me word They'll come; and Kennet thinks to make a third, Provided he's no other invitation From men of greater quality and station.
Room will for Oldmixon and J--s be left: But their discourses smell so much of theft, There would be no abiding in the room, Should two such ignorant pretenders come.
However, by this trusty bearer write, If I should any other scabs invite; Though, if I may my serious judgment give, I'm wholly for King Charles's number five: That was the stint in which that monarch fix'd, Who would not be with noisiness perplex'd: And that, if thou'lt agree to think it best, Shall be our tale of heads, without one other guest.
I've nothing more, now this is said, to say, But to request thou'lt instantly away, And leave the duties of thy present post, To some well-skill'd retainer in a host: Doubtless he'll carefully thy place supply, And o'er his grace's horses have an eye.
While thou, who slunk thro' postern more than once, Dost by that means avoid a crowd of duns, And, crossing o'er the Thames at Temple Stairs, Leav'st Phillips with good words to cheat their ears.
[Footnote 1: Allusion to a pamphlet written against Steele, under the name of Toby (Edward King), Abel Roper's kinsman and shopman.]
[Footnote 2: Dennis had a notion, that he was much dreaded by the French for his writings, and actually fled from the coast, on hearing that some unknown strangers had approached the town, where he was residing, never doubting that they were the messengers of Gallic vengeance. At the time of the peace of Utrecht, he was anxious for the introduction of a clause for his special protection, and was hardly consoled by the Duke of Marlborough's a.s.surances, that he did not think such a precaution necessary in his own case, although he had been almost as obnoxious to France as Mr. Dennis.--_Scott_.]
[Footnote 3: Sir Thomas Pilkington, a leading member of the Skinners'
Company, and a staunch Whig. He was elected Lord Mayor for the third time In 1690, and died in 1691.--_W. E. B._]
[Footnote 4: A comedy by Steele.]
[Footnote 5: See the Examiner, ”Prose Works,” ix, 171 _n._, for the grounds of this charge.--_W. E. B._]
IN SICKNESS
WRITTEN IN OCTOBER, 1714
Soon after the author's coming to live in Ireland, upon the Queen's death.[1]--_Swift_.
'Tis true--then why should I repine To see my life so fast decline?
But why obscurely here alone, Where I am neither loved nor known?
My state of health none care to learn; My life is here no soul's concern: And those with whom I now converse Without a tear will tend my hea.r.s.e.
Removed from kind Arbuthnot's aid, Who knows his art, but not his trade, Preferring his regard for me Before his credit, or his fee.
Some formal visits, looks, and words, What mere humanity affords, I meet perhaps from three or four, From whom I once expected more; Which those who tend the sick for pay, Can act as decently as they: But no obliging, tender friend, To help at my approaching end.
My life is now a burthen grown To others, ere it be my own.
Ye formal weepers for the sick, In your last offices be quick; And spare my absent friends the grief To hear, yet give me no relief; Expired to-day, entomb'd to-morrow, When known, will save a double sorrow.
[Footnote 1: Queen Anne died 1st August, 1714.]
THE FABLE OF THE b.i.t.c.hES[1]
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1715, ON AN ATTEMPT TO REPEAL THE TEST ACT
A b.i.t.c.h, that was full pregnant grown By all the dogs and curs in town, Finding her ripen'd time was come, Her litter teeming from her womb, Went here, and there, and everywhere, To find an easy place to lay her.
At length to Music's house[2] she came, And begg'd like one both blind and lame; ”My only friend, my dear,” said she, ”You see 'tis mere necessity Hath sent me to your house to whelp: I die if you refuse your help.”
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